


Pen Pal

by Sycophantism



Series: I Deal In A Different Story [1]
Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-11-13 04:51:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 12,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11177427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sycophantism/pseuds/Sycophantism
Summary: Dr. Flug ends up becoming unexpected pen pals with a hero, of all people. As nice as it is to have a (sort of) friend that's looking out for him, neither side of the Good vs Evil equation are going to be happy about it.(An analysis into Flug's villainy, using a fan-made hero as a foil.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While talking to Riplae@tumblr, I had a little idea. It's not so little anymore. 
> 
> I wrote a majority of this on my phone while house-sitting, so please forgive any... unseemly narrative. Chapters will also be relatively short, but I have the first handful of chapters written so I'll be updating once or twice a week (depending on demand) until I'm caught up.

Knitting his brows together, Flug stared down at the open device laid out before him, puzzling over the wires. They were connected according to the schematics, yet the settings were reversed; dialing it to _stun_ produced a lethal ray, _lethal_ put it into laser, and _laser_ set it to stun. So clearly something was mixed up, and it worried him that whatever was mixed up might produce more unwanted side effects than just mislabeled beams.  
  
Rocking back in his work chair and reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, he heaved out a sigh. Black Hat wanted the gun ready for catalogue by that evening, and if the problem wasn't with the wiring, then it was something deeper. And a deeper problem would mean a longer repair time. It was a matter of prioritization at this point, and Flug knew better than to try and ask for more time for something that only _might_ be a problem.  
  
Pushing away from the work table, Flug rolled across the linoleum and spun around to catch himself on the waist-high tool rack backed against the wall. Fishing through the drawers, he finally found a scraper. For good measure he pulled out a new roll of labelling tape, knowing that the labelling gun was running low. Kicking off the wall and rolling back to his desk, he grabbed the edge of the table and reached across for the device.  
  
Flug was used to hearing his name in a myriad of different tones. Exasperation, outrage, and impatience were most prominent with Black Hat, though his boss would also address him with curiosity at times. Excitement, mischief, and delight were almost exclusively reserved for Demencia. The voice and tone that called, "Dr. Flug!" from the direction of his door were not ones he was familiar with. It was the tone, first, that caught him off guard and prompted his analysis: relief? Why would anyone in the house cry his name with relief?  
  
The answer came in the next moment as he registered the voice, and how it was entirely unfamiliar to him. This finally was what had him standing, looking to the unknown figure entering his lab.  
  
Their uniform was sky blue, the motif if a capital "Z" emblazoned across their helmet, chest, and belt buckle. It was all very cartoony, but what else would one expect from a hero?  
  
Flug was too surprised at the sight to respond immediately. There was a hero in the building. A glance at the security system told him it was online and active, and more to the point, showing no perimeter breaches. Looking back to the hero, he watched as they shut the door behind themselves and turned to face him.  
  
"Who are you?" he asked, because that was the reasonable thing to say when someone breaks into your home in the least threatening manner conceivable.  
  
Immediately the hero brightened, excited to be asked. Right. Flug should have known better than to give a hero a chance to perform their heroic introductions.  
  
"My name is The Zephyr!" they announced, thumping their chest with a fist proudly. Flug waited for more, a pose or a dance of some sort, but that seemed to be it. Underwhelming, but he appreciated that they weren't going to waste his time. Although...  
  
"Shouldn't you say, 'I'm The Zephyr'?" he said. "The Zephyr is a title more than a name, as indicated by the 'the' at the beginning."  
  
The Zephyr looked surprised, then sheepish. "Oh. It does sound awkward, doesn't it? But I want it to be a name, not a title... like Spider-Man or Wonder Woman, instead of..." They made a grasping motion with their hand, searching for an example.  
  
Flug offered, "The Flash?"  
  
They brightened. "Yeah, exactly! Not that the Flash isn't a good hero. Oh, I'm getting off track... Let me try again." Clearing their throat, they put their fist to their chest again. "My name is Zephyr! And I'm here to rescue you!"  
  
Flug nodded absentmindedly. "That sounded better," he agreed. The rest of the statement registered and he recoiled. "Wait, what? Rescue me?"  
  
"Yeah!" Bounding forward faster than Flug could follow, the hero grabbed his hands in both of theirs. "I saw one of Black Hat Inc.'s commercials, and how terribly that villain was treating you! No one deserves to be help captive like that, bullied around and forced to make such horrible devices to terrorize the world!" Puffing out their chest, Zephyr nodded sagely. "So I decided that my first act as a hero would be to save you from Black Hat's evil clutches!"  
  
Flug stared at the hero, too stunned to properly formulate a reply. This wasn't at all what he had expected. The last few times an invading hero had broken into Black Hat Inc. and reached the lab, they'd destroyed most of his work and then tried their hand at either kidnapping, interrogating, or murderising him. With or without intervention from either heroes with more upright moral codes or one of Flug's own comrades, it had never ended well.  
  
"Doctor?" Zephyr was looking at him expectantly.  
  
Shaking his head to dispel the reverie, Flug disentangled his hands from Zephyr's. "Oh. Well, um, Zephyr, I... I appreciate the thought. But, I'm not a prisoner." Raising a hand to his chest, Flug said, "I work for Mr. Black Hat of my own volition."  
  
Zephyr looked taken aback. "You-- but the way he treats you on those commercials..."  
  
Flug grimaced, but shrugged. "I knew what he was like when I came under his employ. I had no illusions about what it would be like to work for him." Then, because Zephyr still looked unconvinced, he added, "And the benefits make it worthwhile."  
  
"Oh..." Trailing off, Zephyr took a step back. "So... you're a villain?"  
  
Flug considered himself more of a vendor of villains, but he knew the distinction didn't mean much to heroes. "I-I guess?"  
  
Wringing his hands together, Zephyr backed away. "Oh jeez. This is embarrassing."  
  
Leaning a hand against his work table, Flug lifted his shoulders in a shrug. Then, he found that he didn't know what to say, and so he simply picked up the device Black Hat had commissioned of him and raised the barrel toward Zephyr. The hero looked up and stopped moving.  
  
"Y-you're going to shoot me?" they asked, voice equal parts disbelieving and frightened. They couldn't even bring themselves to say 'kill,' the poor thing.  
  
Flug would have nodded, but something stopped him. It wouldn't be the first time he'd killed a hero, far from it. But it was in self-defense more often than not, otherwise he was aligning himself with Black Hat or using them as test subjects. This wasn't one of those times, though Zephyr could still try to attack him now that they knew he was a villain.  
  
No, Flug didn't think they would. They had been retreating, most likely to escape. They were still new to the whole good vs evil game. In all likelihood they were still afflicted with the naive idealism that most heroes began their career with.  
  
And they'd come here to rescue him. They'd seen him on tv, being mistreated by someone as infamous, and infamously powerful, and infamously dangerous as Black Hat, and they'd put their life on the line to break in and try to save some pathetic scientist. It was... touching.  
  
Inhaling deeply, Flug finally sighed and lowered the gun. "Look. If you tell me how you got past the security system, I'll let you go."  
  
Zephyr visibly perked up. "Really?"  
  
Honestly, Flug had thought that all of the mercy had been burned from his bones years ago. "Yeah," he said, gesturing toward the hero to come join him as he sat back at his desk. "Come on." Zephyr was at his side in a brisk gust of wind, rustling his paper bag. Making a face, Flug reached up to fix it, eyeing them out of the corner of his eye. "Zephyr, speed... I guess you have wind powers?"  
  
"A little," they agreed, leaning over his shoulder to look at the security feed. "Here," they said, pointing to the screen (though not actually touching it, Flug noticed with relief).  
  
They walked him through their break-in, a small but easily manipulated bug in the system for someone with an eye for detail. Flug was glad to have it sealed. Ironically, Zephyr had taken on the roll of a white hat for Black Hat Inc., and Flug found that far too amusing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got more support than I expected on this?? so here, have an early update. 
> 
> Sorry for the format of the texts-- I was writing this all on mobile, so writing out coding was absolute agony.

A telltale chime sounded from Flug's pocket. Black Hat looked up from his desk, eyes narrowed. "Am I keeping you from some other commitment, doctor?" he asked, expression betraying the malice behind his placid tone.  
  
Fumbling with his phone, Flug was quick to put it into silent mode. He couldn't even imagine who had messaged him; everyone in the villain community knew that he was under the exclusive employ of Black Hat Inc. now, who would try to contact him through his work email?  
  
"N-no sir, my apologies. You were saying-- the, um, the webzine idea?"  
  
Black Hat wanted to expand his empire to the World Wide Web, establishing Black Hat Inc. as an online catalogue as well as its more traditional methods of advertisement. With options for auctions or mass production, it would certainly bring the company into the 21st century for merchandising.  
  
Flug wasn't a coding whiz kid, but it was easy enough to look up a tutorial or, if he proved incapable, hiring a freelancer. Black Hat rarely cared how Flug got results, only that by the end the day he was handing Black Hat what he wanted. It was times like this, walking down the hall from Black Hat's office with the new task in mind, that Flug felt more like an assistant than a scientist. Thankfully more often than not he was in his lab and putting his PhD's to good use. Still, he doubted NASA or any other legally-aligned establishment would ask their engineers to handle these kinds of things. Well, it wasn't like Black Hat had a PR department. Or really, any employees besides Flug and, arguably, under certain circumstances, Demencia.  
  
Flug wasn't one for the phrase any longer, but when he saw Demencia wheel around the corner up ahead, the first thing that popped unbidden into his mind was, _Speak of the Devil._ She bolted past him, far too close despite the amount of space on both sides, and crowed out, "Beep beep! Outta the way!" Flug reeled aside, arms pinwheeling before he caught himself on the wall.  
  
"Demencia! Slow down!" he shouted after her, brows furrowing. She was such a child!  
  
But her cry reminded him of his phone, and the message waiting there. With a fresh surge of irritation for whoever had messaged him when he was very clearly not available for work, not to mention in the middle of a meeting with Black Hat himself (not that they could have known that part), Flug jammed a hand into his pocket and withdrew his phone.  
  
The name on his home screen dispelled his aggravation. Sliding the lock open, he brought up the email and read the brief message:

> From: TheZephyr@heronet.net
> 
> To: FlugSlysPHD@freelancer.org
> 
> Amazing, I found your email just by Binging you! Thank you for not killing me, Dr! I'd like to pay you back somehow. But I won't break the law so you don't get to ask for any favours! How do you feel about ice cream? B) 

Flug stared in disbelief. There, again, was that naive idealism. Though really, Zephyr was taking it to the extreme. Brows furrowing, Flug typed out a reply.

> From: FlugSlysPHD@freelancer.org
> 
> To: TheZephyr@heronet.net
> 
> This is my work email. Text me. 

Within minutes, one of the six numbers Flug had programmed into the phone received a message.

(It's Zephyr!)

(Are you serious? About the ice cream?)

(Yeah, of course! Why not??)

(I'm a villain.)

(Well, but you're a nice guy! Besides I have a whole honour code thing. I can't not pay you back :P)

Flug shook his head, closing his lab door behind himself and pushing his bag up to rub his face before trying to articulate a reply. It could be a trap, or they could both get in serious trouble with their respective sides of the whole "battle of good vs evil," or any array of terrible consequences. But...  
  
Somehow Zephyr seemed too sincere to try something so underhanded as a sting. And as long as they were discreet (as much as a man with a paper bag on his head and a hero in full uniform could be) then no one else had to know.  
  
Why was he humouring this?

(Sure. Mapquest Marty Mart on Marco road. They have good matcha.)

(Cool!! Tomorrow??)

(Day after.) 

He didn't want to mention that he had a deadline for the Molecular Destabilizer tomorrow.

(Sounds good! See you at 2!)

Flug made a face. He wanted to sleep in after two all-nighters. But... if he left as early as noon, Black Hat might not notice his absence. He usually gave Flug a day off after such strenuous assignments.

(See you then.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna try a new little thing. When I get ten new comments on this fic, I'll post the next chapter. So leave a little love ;w;


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow! We reached ten comments in just one day?? ;w;/ Thank you all so much!

Marty Mart was off the radar of most heroes and villains, mostly because it was a little privately-owned corner store tucked away into the suburbs of a middle-of-nowhere town that wasn't even slum enough to attract the attention of so much as a juvenile delinquent. No one went there, and so no one was there to bother the odd pair as they walked out of the store with their ice cream; a cone for Zephyr, a bowl for Flug.  
  
"This is a bad idea," Flug said, more an observation than out of any sort of anxiety.  
  
"Why?" Zephyr asked, word slurred a bit from their numbed tongue. They were already halfway through their three scoops.  
  
If they couldn't discern the multitude of negative repercussions that such a meeting between a hero and a villain could have for the two of them, Flug didn't have the patience to lay it all out. "Your email is The Zephyr," he said instead.  
  
They were easily distracted from the topic, latching onto the new one. "I-- I had registered it with the domain before we met..!" They pouted. Flug chuckled. It was such a trivial thing to fuss about; it was strangely refreshing from his usual worries.  
  
"And you use Bing."  
  
Puzzled, Zephyr asked, "What's wrong with Bing?"  
  
Flug couldn't even bring himself to laugh, just shaking his head. Zephyr snorted in mock derision as they bit off the rim of their cone. "Okay, Dr. Disdainful, my turn. Why the paper bag?"  
  
It was the first time in a long time that anyone had asked, and it caught him off guard. "W-well-- well what about you?" he shot back. "Why the helmet, Kamen Rider?"  
  
"Hey! Kamen Rider is great!" Zephyr made a noise in the back of their throat. "And besides, the helmet protects my secret civilian identity." Flug gestured toward his paper bag, brow raised. Zephyr blinked. "Oh. That's fair." It looked like they had more they wanted to say, but Flug was sure he'd heard it before; why a paper bag? it made him look like a middle school kid with self-esteem issues.  
  
It wasn't his job to tell people his life story. They could take it or leave it.  
  
Following the curve of the boardwalk, the duo eventually split off from the railing and crossed under a public gazebo to sit on a bench. "So are you really a doctor?"  
  
Flug nodded, poking his spoon into his bowl. "Yes. I have three PhD's."  
  
"Wow! That's really impressive?" Zephyr looked star struck. It made Flug bristle with pride, until he remembered Zephyr was a hero, and then it just made him uncomfortable.  
  
"Who made your suit?" he asked, steering the conversation away from himself.  
  
"The Mechanic! She's a great hero. She helps all us newbies get our uniforms, makes sure they're fitted with some sort of body armour." They gave their chest plate a thump.  
  
"Hmm." Flug focused on the ice cream.  
  
"Still hung up on the whole hero/villain thing?" Zephyr questioned, leaning their head down to look up into his goggles. Flug leaned back.  
  
"Hard to get past," he pointed out, aiming his plastic spoon at their face.  
  
"It happens in comics all the time!" Zephyr said, gesticulating with their cone. "If we're not in the middle of a fight, then there's no need to fight."  
  
Naive idealism.  
  
Flug decided not to point out the potential lives that Zephyr could save if they took Flug right now, all the weapons that they would prevent him from creating and selling to villains.  
  
It was sad to be on the cynical side of that kind of idealism.  
  
But something about Zephyr's simplistic perspective was refreshing. It made Flug feel young again, when he'd been a graduate, when he'd had big plans for the world. Before the world proved itself unworthy of him.  
  
"Alright," he said, digging his spoon into his ice cream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a super short chapter, so I won't up the ante. Ten comments, and the next chapter will be posted!! Your comment can count as 1.5 if you include any of the following in it: 1) a theory of what might happen in the future of the story!; 2) your favorite scene in the fic so far!; or 3) a question/headcanon about Zephyr! 
> 
> Thank you all so much for your following. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it QwQ <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Less than a whole day!!!! I loved reading all of your theories and ideas ;w;/ Enjoy!

(File Received: Majestic!)

Flug leaned over his workbench to look at the image preview. Setting aside the teleporter, he swiped his phone open and downloaded the file.  
  
A fluffy black cat stared up into the camera. He could only describe the expression as unamused. It almost made him snort; the cat kind of reminded him of Black Hat.

(Who's that?) 

(Majestic!! She's my #1 fan!)

Flug rocked back in his chair as he typed.

(She looks annoyed.)

(She has resting bitch face.)

_Like Black Hat,_ Flug thought again, lips twitching at the corners. Then, sighing, he typed:

(I could use geolocation and find your house.) 

(Oh no! Is that a thing?!)

Flug ran a hand down his face. 

(You need to be more careful.)

(Sorry! I will be!)

"Who's that?" Demencia's voice at his shoulder made him jump, fumbling not to drop his phone.  
  
"Demencia!" he snapped, startled and scolding at once. She giggled and ducked under his swinging hand before he could cuff her upside the head. "It's no one."  
  
"Contact said Stupid Hero," she countered, hopping up onto his table and perching like a raven. He froze. "You talking to heroes?"  
  
"Hero," he said, "Singular," not knowing why he bothered with the distinction. "It's a long story."  
  
Demencia grinned down at him, taunting, though not in a malicious way. He was used to her moods. "Black Hat wouldn't like it!"  
  
Flug twitched. "Don't tell him," he said at once, urgently.  
  
"Hah! I knew it!" she crowed, leaping down off the desk to land on all fours. "Flug is keeping secrets from the Boss~"  
  
"Demencia," he pleaded, reaching out for her hood. She rolled away, still cackling. "Demencia!" he tried again, a new edge coming to his voice. She popped up into a crouch, grin slipping as she searched his face. Then, pouting, she stared at him. This was no fun. "I have it under control," he said, laying his hand down on the phone. "... Let me have this."  
  
Demencia rolled onto her side with an exaggerated sigh. "I never get to play with my food," she complained, propping her chin on her arm.  
  
"I-- that's not..." Flug reached beneath his mask to pinch the bridge of his nose. Then, taking a breath, he stood up. "I have a job for you."  
  
He rarely assigned her any jobs, and so the promise of one had her leaping to her feet with manic delight. "Tell me, tell me!" She was too energetic, too reckless, too... Demencia for him to entrust with any of the tasks he often needed done with his work. The devices in their juvenile states were delicate, chemicals were volatile, really, any of his work required a fine touch. Demencia was not known for that.  
  
But the device he had in mind was not in a juvenile state, and with her dogged tenacity, he was sure she could locate it far sooner than if he went looking through their storage room of rejected commissions.  
  
"I need you to find something for me..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, same deal! 10 comments for the next chapter. This time, you can make your comment count as 1.5 by including a for the story, or a question/headcanon for Zephyr!


	5. Chapter 5

Flug had, for the last few years, lacked many reasons to leave the building of Black Hat Inc., locked away in his lab more often than not. Save for business ventures, there really was nothing that could call him to the outdoors.  
  
A new call had arisen, and its name was Zephyr.  
  
"You're so pale," they marveled, arm extended and glove rucked up around their wrist to bare their skin. Flug had done the same, pressing his forearm to Zephyr's to compare complexion. He... really was pale.  
  
"I don't get a lot of sun," he said, rolling his glove back up and his sleeve back down. Even when he did go outside though, every inch of skin was covered, so it wouldn't make much difference.  
  
"You should get out more," Zephyr said, fixing their glove with fastidious attention. "Especially during the summer! The weather is great! I mean, look at that sun!!"  
  
Fishing a lighter from his pocket, Flug pointed out, "It's going to rain." He'd checked the forecast before leaving, but the clouds moving in from the West were hard to miss.  
  
Zephyr pouted at him. He chuckled, reaching up to tip his paper bag back and fit a cigarette between his lips. The hero perked up, surprised, and watched as he sparked the flint.  
  
"You smoke?"  
  
Taking a breath and filling his lungs, reveling in the burn as it poured down his throat, Flug nodded. Then, sighing the smoke out through his nose just to spread the burn, he said, "Yes. Sometimes." It was a treat of sorts, something he allowed himself between big projects. An indulgence, to lessen the chronic tension that plagued him.  
  
Flug took another lung full of smoke, then blew it out in a thin stream toward the sky. It was more stimulating than anything, an oral fixation, a sear of pain, and a sense of self-destructive hedonism. And he was irrationally pleased with himself whenever he managed to accomplish some menial trick.  
  
To that end, he took a drag, held it, then puffed out a series of rings. Zephyr _ohhh_ 'd and gave a little clap. Then, raising a hand, they said, "May I?"  
  
Flug blinked, then nodded, drawing in more smoke before blowing it out. Zephyr dragged their finger through the smoke, then began to twirl it, creating a miniature tornado. Flug made a low noise of appreciation, watching as Zephyr brought their hand beneath the tornado and cupped it in their palm. Pursing their lips, they blew out a quick stream of air, sending the tornado, in tact, spiraling toward the sky.  
  
Leaving his smoke hanging from his lips, Flug freed his hands to clap. In the same moment, a rumble rolled overhead. They both looked at Flug's hands.  
  
"You got some secret thunder powers?" Zephyr asked playfully.  
  
"Black Hat says I have a penchant for timing," Flug admit.  
  
The next thunderclap was accompanied by a flash of lightning, and then the sky opened. Flug hunched over, curling his arms over his head with a low sound of distress. He'd have to deal with wearing a wet paper bag for the rest of the day, apparently. "It wasn't supposed to start for another few hours," he muttered. The fifteen minutes he'd spent calculating his timeline for the day had just become moot. He sighed ruefully.  
  
"Hold your bag," Zephyr said. Without thinking, Flug obeyed, looking up in confusion. A broad gesture from the hero had a wind whipping past them, startling the doctor. It seemed to have more of an impact overhead, the clouds rolling past them with greater velocity. Within a minute the rain had passed, though Flug still wound up soaked through.  
  
"My suit is hydrophobic," Zephyr said, sitting next to Flug once more and plucking at his sleeve. "I didn't realize how wet you'd still get..."  
  
"It's fine," he assured them, sliding his coat off to wring it out. "My bag isn't as bad as it would've been." He'd managed to block most of the rain from wetting it.  
  
Zephyr beamed, pleased to have been able to help. Flug thought about thanking them, and didn't. He didn't need this... _this_ , whatever it was, feeling any friendlier than it already did.  
  
"You should quit smoking," Zephyr said as they leaned back on their hands. Flug paused midway through pulling his coat back on. "It's bad for your health."  
  
Flug inclined his head, not pointing out that it'd probably be better for Zephyr if Flug keeled over with lung cancer or something.  
  
"I should," he agreed. He knew he wouldn't, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice rhythm we're getting into, isn't it? Very calm. Very fluffy.
> 
> :^)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes before we begin the chapter! 
> 
> First, the darling Riplae@Tumblr has graciously provided us with a reference for Zephyr!! You can see it right here! (Embedding isn't working and it's making me cry.) riplae.tumblr.com/post/161939590603/also-sycophantism-has-a-cute-villainous-fanfic ;w; And of course, please go thank them on their blog!
> 
> Second, I've made a side blog for all of my Villainous content! You can find me @Scribblerinthetree, where there's already a ficlet posted, and a teaser for a future fic which'll be uploaded here on AO3!

Black Hat was leaning into the doorway, lips purse and eyes narrowed, but he didn't enter. Flug could feel his stare boring into the back of his paper bag, but resolved himself not to look back. Doubtlessly, the demon's attention came from Flug's change in habits; leaving the mansion unannounced, keeping a regular meal schedule, getting sufficient sleep each night. It wasn't bad, per say, but it warranted investigation.  
  
Flug didn't want to admit that he had an angel on his shoulder, reminding him about self-care.  
  
Or, more accurately, a hero in his contacts list.

(Dr! Look what I'm making.)

Once again, Zephyr sent him a photo. Flug sighed. The hero had said he wouldn't be sending files to other numbers, but that it didn't matter if they sent them to Flug since the doctor could just use the first picture to find them anyway. It was true, but it still screamed of naivety.  
  
Only after he had swiped to open his phone did he remember Black Hat's presence. Too late now to ignore his phone, lest he arouse suspicion, Flug glanced at the photo.  
  
It was a waffle iron, a dirty but empty mixing bowl, a line of bottles including syrup and whipped cream, and a bowl of fresh fruits. The sight of the strawberries made Flug's mouth water.  
  
"And what is this?" Black Hat asked, clearly trying not to appear invested. Flug looked up at him, managing somehow not to fluster guiltily.  
  
"A pen pal," he said, glancing down at the photo again. "They've been making sure I eat properly."  
  
"Ah. So I have them to thank for your sudden fascination with the state of our pantry," Black Hat responded dryly. Flug ducked his head.  
  
"Um, I suppose so, sir, yes."  
  
"Hmph." Sniffing, Black Hat turned and strode out of the lab. His put-upon disinterest meant he asked less questions, which made it easier on Flug. 

(Looks delicious.)

(What'd you have for breakfast?!)

Flug glanced at the crumbs left over from the meal. It hadn't been fresh fruit and waffles, but the fact that he'd eaten before noon without being reminded was a feat in and of itself.

(Bagel and cream cheese.)

(Yummy!!! ✧٩(•́⌄•́๑)و ✧)

Flug snorted at the emoji. His phone pinged with another message.

(Gotta run! Don't forget about lunch!)

"Dr. Flug," Black Hat called. Flug lifted his head. "If you are not too busy with your pen pal, it is about time you prepare for your meeting with Phantasm Pharmaceuticals, is it not?"  
  
Right. Black Hat was sending him as a liaison with the big-name company because they, in all of their hypocritical glory, were too scared to meet with the actual villain that they were signing on to work with. A renowned scientist under his employ, though, that was another story.  
  
"Yes, sir!" he called, pushing away from his desk to stand. Having that kind of relationship with a company like that would give Black Hat Inc. access to more chemicals than ever before. Flug could imagine the expanded repertoire of his lab already. Plus it would mean that Black Hat never had to deal with foreign or dropout scientists again.  
  
"Then get to it!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smells like plot. 
> 
> Don't you love my naming in this fic?? Marty Mart on Marco Road because I was dog-sitting two dogs. Marty and Marco. And Phantasm Pharmaceuticals because alliteration and also, my username. 
> 
> Thank you everyone for your comments!! They've seriously made my days so great ;w;


	7. Chapter 7

Flug couldn't pinpoint the time in his life when being ambushed by heroes stopped being a shock. It was still an ordeal, frightening at times if they were of the more violent ilk, but somehow he wasn't entirely surprised when the representative for the pharmaceutical company slammed the door in his face to trap him in the alley and, from behind him, he heard the telltale sounds of super-powered people hitting the ground. Most likely from where they'd been hiding on the rooftops, like true comic heroes.  
  
That wasn't to say he'd expected the deal to take a turn for the worst, or had even suspected them of deceit. He was prepared for it, of course, he was always prepared for worst-case scenarios; he had a weapon on hand, and an emergency pager that would alert Black Hat in seconds. Maybe it had been his starry-eyed excitement at having an easy line to more uncommon chemicals and medicinals, but he'd thought this deal was going to work out. Evidently, it had been a ploy the entire time. That or heroes had intercepted the company on the brink of a poor ethical decision and convinced them to reconsider.  
  
Either way, the specifics of it wouldn't change the fact that Flug was cornered in an alley with three heroes staring him down. He knew them all by name and power-- had made it his job to be familiar with the heroes of the city, any powers or skills that might be pitted against Black Hat Inc. someday.  
  
General Gravity was his greatest concern; she was a veteran hero, able to manipulate the gravity of an area. She could pin him down with ease, make it too heavy to so much as raise his head. He'd have to incapacitate her first.  
  
Bee-Man was less of a concern. Flug wasn't allergic to bee stings, unlike Demencia, and they were in the middle of downtown, so the population of bees at his disposal would be negligible. Flug had already taken care of his mind, protecting it against the pheromonal influence of Bee-Man and any other siren-like mind-altering powers.  
  
Typhoon was her own category of hero, and she worried him for a different reason. She had made a name for herself as a vigilante, even by the standards of the city's heroes. She was ruthless toward villains, and with her shark-shaped sword, she could do a villain like him a world of pain.  
  
"Dr. Flug," General Gravity said, straightening her posture. "Punctual, as always."  
  
"Unlike your sidekick," Bee-Man muttered. General Gravity ignored him.  
  
"You have an incredible work ethic, for one with so few ethics."  
  
Flug shrugged his shoulders, trying not to betray his nerves. He used the gesture to sneak a hand into his back pocket.  
  
"Hands where we can see 'em, scumbag," Typhoon snapped, swinging her weapon toward him. Flug's hand froze and, after a moment, he dropped both to his sides, palms forward. He didn't want her summoning one of her namesakes; in this tight a place, he'd be crushed against the wall. Eugh. Not a nice way to go.  
  
"We've accounted for all of your contingencies, doctor," General Gravity said. "So attempting to escape is ill-advised. I'm going to weigh you down so that we can restrain you unhindered."  
  
He sensed when she changed the gravity around him, suddenly feeling heavier, dragged down by his clothes. He stood resolute, even as his knees buckled and it hurt to stay standing. When he crumpled, he used the movement to seize his gun from his belt and swing it up toward the trio.  
  
The gravity slammed him to the ground all at once, no longer easing him down, and he sprawled out on his front. Grunting, he squinted one eye and pulled the trigger.  
  
Typhoon flew backward as the beam slammed into her chest. He'd been aiming for General Gravity, but he wasn't going to complain; at least he'd hit one of them. Immediately, gravity crushed him to the ground, driving the air from his lungs; wheezing, weakly, his hand was forced flat to the ground, unable to aim.  
  
"General?"  
  
The voice echoed down the alley walls. Flug startled, unable to look past the heroes to the mouth of the alley but recognizing the voice.  
  
"You're late," General Gravity said as Zephyr crept to her side, though not drawing too near to her.  
  
"I-- sorry-- is-- is this the..." They seemed unusually timid. Flug watched them, silent.  
  
"Yes, this is the villain that we've been attempting to apprehend." Zephyr looked back to where Bee-Man was tending to Typhoon. Unfortunately the weapon had been set to stun, so she would be fine once the paralysis wore off. There hadn’t exactly been time to twist the dial, but he was still frustrated. It may have had something to do with the creeping fear.  
  
“Just flatten him,” Bee-Man growled, looking up from where he was crouched. “Be done with it. He’s been a pain in our butts for years.”  
  
“You’re starting to sound an awful lot like Typhoon,” General Gravity said, a note of warning in her tone as she kept her gaze on Flug.  
  
Their bickering fell on deaf ears as Flug stared at Zephyr. He could see the conflict in their body language. A new sort of conflict began in his own mind; he wanted to be rescued, of course-- but the sacrifice that would take weighed on his conscience. It would change the entire foundation of their relationship.  
  
“He only builds the weapons, right?” Zephyr asked, and General Gravity scoffed with abject disbelief.  
  
“ _Only_?” she repeated. “Zephyr, the number of devices created by this man that arm the masses of our enemies is insurmountable. The war on evil would have been over long ago if not for Dr. Flug’s inventions.”  
  
“Villains will get weapons anywhere,” Zephyr argued, with a tone of having considered this very deeply. Flug hated that they’d been thinking about it so much. “They’ll just find another dealer!”  
  
“What has gotten into you?” General Gravity asked. “You’ve been loyal to the cause ever since you joined us, and now suddenly you’re creating gray areas where they don’t exist.”  
  
“No, I…”  
  
A heavy grunt drew Zephyr’s attention back, and Flug followed their gaze to where Typhoon was heaving herself to her feet. Uh oh. The stun hadn’t lasted nearly as long as he’d calibrated it to. One of those unexpected side-effects, a part of him reflected, even as the rest flooded with panic when the hero began her warpath toward him.  
  
“I’ll gut the smarmy coward,” Typhoon snarled, weapon dragging along the ground.  
  
“Typhoon,” General Gravity warned, though she made no move to stop her.  
  
“Can it, Captain Virtuous, I’ve had it with this guy. I’m taking care of him for good.”  
  
Despite his struggles, Flug was helpless to power through the force of gravity pinning him down. He was fucking doomed.  
  
Before Typhoon had even reached General Gravity’s side, the weight vanished. Flug was on his hands and knees from pure instinct before he even realized what had happened, and by that point, Zephyr was at his side, hand on his arm, heaving him to his feet. They’d thrown a garbage bag in front of General Gravity, disrupting her line of sight.  
  
_Line of sight,_ he mused, realizing that her powers must depend on visual contact. Good to know.  
  
A gust of wind blasted him into the air with a shrill scream, Zephyr’s grip on him unwavering as they steered him over to land on the roof. “Come on,” they urged. Flug didn’t need to be told twice.  
  
They ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :^)


	8. Chapter 8

Flug glanced at his phone as it vibrated across the table. It had an archive of ten texts from Zephyr, all unread. He'd had no illusions about the inevitable conclusion of their relationship, but last night had altered the perceived timeline drastically.  
  
The phone buzzed again and he sighed.  
  
“Fighting with the pen pal?” Black Hat asked. Flug nearly threw himself over the table in an attempt to get away from the voice suddenly behind him.  
  
“S-- sir!!” Rolling onto his back and bracing himself against the table, he stared at Black Hat’s unimpressed glower. The demon arched an eyebrow. “Um-- no, not… well…”  
  
“I don't care, Doctor,” Black Hat said, rolling his eyes as he strode across the lab. “How are the Molecular Destabilizer commissions coming? We have more orders.”  
  
Flug glanced at the phone before responding. “They're coming along… sir.”  
  
Black Hat made a dissatisfied sound. “Increase your productivity, Dr. Flug. I want the first three orders done by the end of the week.”  
  
It would be easy to complete them in time. He'd been dawdling on it, taking more time for himself-- and, admittedly, Zephyr. “Yes, sir,” he said distantly. Black Hat made a displeased sound, and Flug's head jerked up. “I-I mean, sir, that’s… a high order--”  
  
“Get it done, Dr. Flug.” Black Hat’s tone brokered no room for negotiation, and he left the lab behind. Flug raised a hand to his chest and sighed. It was no problem at all, but if Black Hat knew that, he’d just push the doctor more. No sense in letting him catch on.  
  
His phone vibrated against the table. Resigning himself, Flug picked it up and glanced at the most recent message.

(I’m coming!!)

He nearly dropped his phone, fumbling to open it.

(What?! No! Why!)

Only when he saw Zephyr typing a reply did he scroll up. And groan. The hero had been trying to check in on him, then come to the absurd conclusion that Black Hat must have found out about their little friendship and was punishing him for it. 

(You’re not locked up in a torture dungeon?!) 

Flug wanted to roll his eyes at the exaggeration, but he… wasn’t sure if it would be. For all he knew, Black Hat might have a torture dungeon. Actually, he probably did.

(No. I’ve been working.) 

(Oh okay! Good! I’m glad you’re okay.!)

Flug wouldn’t go that far, but he chose not to correct them. 

(How about you?) 

Surely Zephyr would be in a world of trouble with the Hero’s Association, or whatever they were calling themselves now. Apparently the heroes had gotten to Phantasm Pharmaceuticals early on in the negotiations, and so the sting had been in the works for the last handful of weeks. They wouldn’t be too happy about a newbie hero saving their target. Though the experience had given Flug new insight on how valuable a target he was to the heroes of the city; he’d underestimated their esteem of him, a mistake he didn’t plan on making again. 

(Oh. I uhhh haven’t answered their texts lol... )

The Association would probably brand Zephyr a traitor if they didn’t respond eventually. In all likelihood, they’d never fully trust Zephyr again. Worst case scenario, they thought Zephyr was a villain in disguise; best case scenario, which he thought was most likely, was that the heroes assumed their little recruit had been afflicted by that Freshie Naïveté. Flug didn’t mention any of that.  
  
Instead, staring down at the phone, he found that he had nothing to say. So, rather than brood over it, he texted:

(Ice cream?)

Zephyr’s response was a series of exclamation marks, and Flug felt a tired smile tug at his lips. 

* * *

“This is better than vanilla,” Zephyr exclaimed.  
  
“I told you.” Flug had finally convinced the hero to try matcha, and he was trying not to sound smug.  
  
“Yeah, shush.” Zephyr bumped shoulders with him, devouring their cone as Flug poked at his bowl.  
  
Their walk to the gazebo was in relative silence, neither wanting to bring up the events of the day prior. Explaining it to Black Hat had been a nightmare; he’d had to _lie_ , outright, so as not to reveal Zephyr. He didn’t like risking his neck, but telling Black Hat about Zephyr wasn’t an option.  
  
Zephyr hadn’t even been in contact with their side of the issue. Apparently they had been General Gravity’s apprentice in heroism, and Flug could only imagine how someone with a military ranking in her hero name would react to insubordination of that degree. And she’d been ready to let Typhoon kill him…  
  
His phone chirped in his pocket. A look at the screen had him opening his messages.

(i found the thing!!! says EAP. that right?????) 

Demencia’s texting vernacular could drive him up the wall on the best of days, but for some reason it didn’t bother him so much right now. It made him feel… homey. Sometimes he forgot how reassuring he found her presence in his life. The reminder was nice.

(Yes, that’s it. The Eldritch Absorption Prototype.) 

(right, the black hat powers sucky gun.) 

(... Just put it on my desk.)

(u got it!!!) 

“Demencia,” Zephyr read, and Flug shoved his phone down in alarm. “Oop-- sorry! I didn’t think-- sorry, I’m… nosy.” They smiled apologetically. Flug frowned a bit, but didn’t comment. “That’s the girl on the show, right? With the crazy eyes?” More like crazy everything. But Flug just nodded. “What’s her story?”  
  
Flug shrugged as he sat down, stirring at his melting ice cream. “Are you going back to the Hero’s Association?” he asked rather than answering. This wasn’t the setting to be sharing origin stories, let alone those of his peers.  
  
Zephyr latched onto the new topic; they seemed easily diverted. “Oh. Um… well, yes, eventually. I’m just nervous. I’m sure General Gravity is gonna be pissed.” They rubbed the back of their neck. Flug made a noise of agreement. “But she’ll listen,” they said. Flug wondered where they got their confidence, then realized it came from the same damned idealism that had landed them in the trouble in the first place. He bit his tongue to keep from pointing this out. “I just need to explain--”  
  
“Pay up, they’re with The Lunchbag Baddie.” The pair turned in their seats. Flug was on his feet first, staring at the small crown of heroes standing behind their bench. Zephyr was slower to rise.  
  
“They’re my classmates,” Zephyr said lowly, looking uncertain. “I…”  
  
Just what Flug wanted to deal with today; rookie heroes. After the reflexive surge of panic, he’d managed to temper his adrenaline. These were barely adults, let alone heroes; in all likelihood, not a single one of them had ever even faced a proper villain, let alone without an experienced hero holding their hands.  
  
“Didn’t take you long to show your true colours,” one of the rookies called. “Were you a spy, or just a turncoat?”  
  
“No, I--”  
  
“Cram it, Febreeze,” another cut in, a miasmic glow encasing his hands. All of them seemed to be preparing for combat. Flug didn’t move from behind Zephyr, slipping a hand into his pocket surreptitiously. None of them noticed, attention absorbed with their former peer. It occurred to him that they probably only recognized him as the nerd from Black Hat Inc., similarly to Zephyr’s initial perception of him. They didn’t think he was particularly villainous on his own. Any villainy they would attribute to him would merely be a byproduct of his contribution to the company. He didn’t have to worry about being targeted.  
  
“General Gravity put out a notice to bring you in,” a girl said, her hair floating in its own wind, blonde tendrils flicking slowly. “For questioning. You saved a villain, Zephy. What were you thinking?”  
  
“He-- he’s not a bad guy,” Zephyr protested.  
  
“Not a bad guy? Or not a bad _guy_?” The tone was mocking. Flug decided he didn’t like this particular rookie; the original speaker, who’d apparently taken bets on whether they’d find Zephyr with him. There were tattoos tracing circuitous lines up his arms in a rainbow gradient. Some sort of electricity power, then. The girl was likely telekinetic. The other boy, purple fog still flowing around his fists, was a mystery to Flug. The rest all displayed an array of potential powers, none of which particularly worried him.  
  
“Guys,” Zephyr pleaded, “Just hear me out. I’m not-- it isn’t like that, I just… I’ve been spending time with him, h--”  
  
“So, turncoat,” Electricity Boy interrupted. “Good to know.”  
  
“No! I’m a hero! But-- but it didn’t feel right to kill--”  
  
“Zephy,” the telekinetic interjected, gentle but firm. “You never should’ve left the academy. The real world is too cruel for you. Villains kill people, so to save lives, we have to kill villains.”  
  
Zephyr clenched their fists. Clearly they disagreed.  
  
“We’re wasting time,” Miasma Kid said, stepping forward. “Let’s grab them and go.”  
  
As Zephyr recoiled, stunned by the dispassionate tone, Flug stepped forward and raised his gun. The group collectively froze, shocked that the apparent villain’s sidekick was acting on his own. It really was an annoying stereotype to find himself in, but he had to admit, it had its perks.  
  
“This is a Molecular Destabilizer,” Flug said, his tone like that of a lecturing professor. Black Hat often interrupted his explanations on the catalogue, and so he took the opportunity to speak unhindered, “Upon making contact with an entity, it envelopes them in a cocoon and induces a state of accelerated molecular entropy. For those of you who skipped out on tenth-grade science, or couldn’t discern from the name, this gun will tear you apart at an atomic level with a single hit.” He could see fear beginning to manifest. Good. “Ideally, I would be able to get your destruction on film,” he continued, “To show villains as a demonstration of its usefulness against pesky, uppity, wannabe heroes. But I’d be happy to demonstrate to a live audience.” With that he turned the barrel onto Electricity Boy and squeezed the trigger.  
  
The rookies shouted at varying levels of horror and fright, scattering. They weren’t anywhere near ready to die for the cause. Within seconds the gazebo was empty save for the original two occupants-- and a paralyzed Electricity Boy.  
  
“You killed him!” Zephyr shrilled, scrambling forward.  
  
Flug checked the gun, almost disappointed at his last-second decision to switch from lethal. “No,” he said, following Zephyr, “He’s just paralyzed. I don’t carry a Molecular Destabilizer around on me. Too bulky.” Zephyr gawped up at him from where they were kneeling next to their ex-peer. And then they burst out laughing.  
  
“You-- you were bluffing!”  
  
Flug shrugged, tucking his gun into his pocket. “Yeah.” Mostly. He still could’ve killed the boy.  
  
“How long will he be like this?” Zephyr stared down at Electricity Boy, who had an expression of terror frozen on his face. Flug suspected that something more akin to outrage was boiling in his mind.  
  
“Not nearly as long as I’d like,” he said, rubbing his thumb over the handle of the device. If the paralysis wore off, then he’d have lost the element of surprise. “We should… go.”  
  
Zephyr nodded and scrambled to their feet, hurrying away with him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Dr. Flug was asleep. He always turned his phone off when he went to bed, because of how tenuous his grasp on sleep could be; any text would wake him, and once he was up it could take hours for him to get back down. So, when the texts sent but didn’t deliver, stuck in the limbo of a satellite until Dr. Flug turned his phone back on, Zephyr knew he was asleep.  
  
Ascending the stairs of Black Hat Inc., Zephyr grasped the ornate knocker and brought it down once, twice, three times. The company likely didn’t have many unannounced guests. Zephyr was depending on it.  
  
When the door swung open, Black Hat himself stood in the threshold, suit immaculate despite the time. “What?” he snarled, lips drawn back from off-colour fangs.  
  
Zephyr braced themself, ready to fight if they must. “Black Hat,” they said, standing straight. “I demand you terminate your contract with Dr. Flug.”  
  
Black Hat’s shoulders slouched all at once and he screwed up his face in confusion. “What?” Then, without waiting for an answer, he snapped, “Who the hell are you?”  
  
“I’m-- his friend,” they said, remaining resolute. They wouldn’t waver.  
  
Black Hat narrowed his eyes, taking a menacing step forward, letting the door shut behind him. Zephyr tried not to back away but found it impossible; Black Hat’s presence was palpable, driving them away. “His friend?” Black Hat echoed, continuing his advance, forcing Zephyr back down the steps. “Flug’s friend? You--” Stopping, physically and verbally, Black Hat seemed to take notice of something. “What in Hell are you wearing?”  
  
Zephyr glanced down at their uniform, caught off guard by the demand. Black Hat’s hyena cackle made them look up again, bewildered.  
  
“A hero,” he exclaimed, eyes alight like a Jack-o'-lantern on Halloween, glowing dimly. “You,” he said, “You’re the Pen Pal.” Something else seemed to occur to him, understanding dawning on his face. His grin widened. “You’re the pet project.”  
  
Zephyr tried to formulate a response, but found it impossible. Black Hat wasn’t even threatening them, and they felt like their very life was in danger just by being near him. This was the reality of evil.  
  
Shadows crept across the lawn toward them, and Zephyr backpedaled further, noticing the darkness rising around them. Looking about frantically, they felt their heart lodge in their throat. When it became clear that the shadows were reaching for them, Zephyr propelled themself backward, out of range of the grasping tendrils, and sent a gust of wind up beneath Black Hat, knocking the villain off his balance-- indeed knocking him off his feet, sending him nearly ten feet into the air. The shock on the demon’s face made triumph swell in Zephyr’s chest. That same triumph withered as Black Hat landed back on his feet in the next moment, heavily but with grace. His hands, Zephyr noted, were no longer in his pockets, extended partially for balance. A minor victory. Considering they were a rookie against the infamous Black Hat, it was impressive they were able to surprise the villain at all.  
  
“Ah, little blue bird,” Black Hat grinned, his maw splitting open into a rictus of fangs and acid. “Now I wonder what the good doctor has in store for you.”  
  
“Let him go!” Zephyr shouted, backing toward the gate.  
  
Black Hat ceased his advance, and just like that, the atmosphere returned to normal. The shadows retreated to their places, and Black Hat fixed his tie to reaffirm his impeccable appearance. Eyes blazing a sickly green, bioluminescent in the night, Black Hat smiled down at the hero. Something in the smile finally convinced Zephyr; it was hopeless. They fled, Black Hat’s final word following them out the gate:  
  
“Never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ᕕ( ᐕ )ᕗ


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise ;3 There's actually 12 chapters. (This isn't be being sneaky, I just can't count LMAO.)

Dividing his attention equally between the guns laid out in front of him and the conversation he was having on his phone, Flug was managing to get a fair bit done on all fronts. The Eldritch Absorption Prototype had been a failure, incapable of containing the sheer mass of power that Black Hat channeled into it. But he suspected, with some adjustments, it could still prove to be useful, despite having been scrapped after Black Hat deemed it a failure. Beside it, having today alone grown from its conceptual infancy into a working prototype, was a device that would render a body brain dead with a single hit. Flug suspected he’d been watching too many medical dramas. 

(Do you think my suit has that geolocation stuff in it?)

(Maybe. It wouldn’t be hard.)

(OK.)

It wasn’t the response he’d expected. Flug considered asking what they were going to do. They’d have to face the Hero’s Association eventually. A single glance at the EAP recaptured his attention. It was twenty minutes later before his phone vibrated again. Flug wondered if it was in bad taste to be talking to Zephyr while working on these guns.

(Can we get ice cream?)

Flug stared at the spontaneous question, contemplative. Hesitant. He knew Zephyr well enough to be able to read the tone of the text. They didn’t ask such simple questions, the lack of an excited emoticon betrayed their failed attempt at nonchalance. This invitation-- no, this plea-- was different than the last few times. He just wasn’t sure how.

(Sure.)

Looking at the devices in front of him, Flug wondered why he’d brought it out of storage. Wondered what had compelled him to try reworking it to some new purpose. Wondered why inspiration worked the way it did, in such underhanded and cruel ways.  
  
Flug wondered about the concept of genius. He’d been called a genius in his lifetime, countless times, but in the original meaning, a human couldn’t be genius. Genius was a gift from a higher being, a creature whispering inspiration in your ear, planting seeds of ideas in your subconscious. He wondered which he would prefer; the idea of being able to take credit for all of his “genius” breakthroughs, or of having the opportunity to blame some unseen deity for the designs in his mind. 

(Half an hour?)

“If you are going to see your little blue bird,” Black Hat said, laying his hands on Flug’s shoulders, “Do not forget to check the setting of your gun.” There was something knowing in his tone. Flug didn’t know when Zephyr and his boss had met, and he didn’t think he wanted to.  
  
“Yes, sir,” he said, gaze sliding to the blueprints laid out beside him. Now that he looked at all of the pieces together, he’d always known what he was preparing for. Doing it one at a time just meant he could avoid looking at the big picture for a little longer. 

(See you then.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 乁( ˙ ω˙乁)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found out last night that I'm going to RTX this weekend, and we leave tomorrow, so I wanted to post this chapter before I'm gone for a week! Enjoy!

It had been a disaster from the start. The person that walked into the shop, unfamiliar, had greeted him familiarly. Flug had felt his gut twist and drop as Zephyr, sans suit, introduced themself. Where’s your uniform?!’  
  
_’I got rid of it. So they couldn’t track me anymore.’_ And just like that they were ordering their ice cream. Flug, staring in disbelief at the ease with which they went about it, found that he couldn’t articulate any more than that. He ordered his ice cream.  
  
Once outside, heading toward the gazebo, Zephyr said decisively, “I’m retiring,” They were eating matcha again. _I can’t believe I’ve wasted so much time on vanilla,_ they’d lamented. _It’s matcha from here on out._  
  
Flug, head down, stared through the puddle of matcha-vanilla he’d gotten. It wasn’t very good. “Why?”  
  
“Heroism isn’t for me.” They sounded passive. Flug knew what they were talking about, and he almost told them to stop. Stop gauging heroism based on how heroes were treating him. Him, Flug, a villain. A rather notorious one, considering how few employees Black Hat Inc. truly had, and how big of a name it had made for itself.  
  
Instead, Flug said, “You would have made a great hero.”  
  
Zephyr smiled wistfully, stopping at their usual bench and staring out toward the city. “Maybe. But I’m glad I won’t.” They looked at him. “I’m glad I met you instead.” Flug didn’t reply. Gesturing with their ice cream cone, Zephyr said, “If it’s all about… black-and-white, no second chances, no testimony, then I don’t want any part of it. Heck, maybe I’ll become a lawyer.” They laughed.  
  
Flug stirred his spoon through the sludge of his green-and-white ice cream, then set the bowl down on the bench.  
  
“Flug.” It was the first time they’d called him by just his name, no honorific. He looked up, and they reached out, taking his hands. It was uncomfortably reminiscent of their first meeting. “Retire with me.”  
  
Flug stared at them and wondered how he’d ever expected anything else. “No.”  
  
It was Zephyr’s turn to startle, slowly releasing Flug’s hands. “But…”  
  
Flug let his hands hover there for a moment, aimless, before laying one on Zephyr’s arm. He saw their eyes light up, just a bit, at the first bit of physical contact Flug had ever initiated. “Zephyr…”  
  
“No, to your no!” Zephyr interrupted, grabbing Flug’s hand with both of their own. “You’re a good person, Flug! You-- you aren’t… You _know_ you’re hurting people. You can get out of that life. Just leave villainy. You could do so much--”  
  
“No,” Flug said again, and Zephyr’s words stuttered off into silence. He didn’t try to take his hand back, letting Zephyr hold it. “This is my life. I chose it. I’m not hurting people, Zephyr, the villains who buy my inventions are. And if I don’t make them, then someone else will.” He knew it was pointless to try and explain this to a hero suffering from that naive idealism. But still he continued, “Black Hat is a parasite of capitalism, capitalizing off of the evil in people. We can either suffer from the evils in this life, or profit off of them. And we’re not the heroes.” Zephyr’s eyes widened. “That’s up to your side to deal with.”  
  
“B-- but…” Zephyr’s idealism would never let them accept Flug’s explanation. There would always be a peaceful resolution, a middle ground, some secret good inside a person that could be saved.  
  
Flug sighed. “I honestly wish there were more people like you,” he admitted. “So many heroes these days are… corrupt, glory-hungry, self-righteous. Maybe if there were more like you…” Flug trailed off. Even if every hero in the world was like Zephyr, it wouldn’t make a difference.  
  
But he saw in Zephyr’s eyes that they thought it would make all of the difference. He saw hope in their eyes, and more-- more than he wanted to see.  
  
Flug saw love in the way Zephyr was looking at him. Like a dear friend, someone they valued closely. Someone they cared about. Someone they trusted.  
  
Flug pulled the trigger. A cream-coloured beam struck Zephyr between the ribs, and Flug saw the light in their eyes glaze into nothing. No fear, no betrayal, no anguish.  
  
Using the hand that Zephyr was holding until the end, Flug caught them before they crumpled, easing their body to the ground. He reached for their neck before noticing the tremor in his hand. Grasping his wrist, he took a steadying breath, then stripped his glove off and checked their pulse. Strong, steady. Unimpeded. A quick flick of a penlight showed that Zephyr’s pupils didn’t react, fixed and vacant.  
  
Leaning back, then sitting heavily, Flug hung his head. Running a thumb over the smooth edge of his phone, he slowly dialed, then pressed speaker.  
  
“Yes?” Black Hat’s voice rang with surety.  
  
Swallowing a lump in his throat, Flug wished he’d figured out how to phrase this request before calling. “U-- um, sir, there’s… I have… That-- my pet project, I could… use a, uh, a little help with something… a part of it…”  
  
“Yes, yes,” Black Hat said, impatient. “What do you need?”  
  
“I need-- need you to come get me.”  
  
There was a pause. It probably wasn’t what Black Hat had expected, and Flug waited.  
  
“Where are you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ SEEYOUNEXTWEEKBYEEEEEEE


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who lost their passport and couldn't go to RTX!! Me. 
> 
> So yeah here's the final chapter. "But what!" you say, "Why does it say 12/14 now?!" That, dear reader, is because there is an epilogue. Hold onto your butts 'cause I'll be posting it within the next couple days. 
> 
> With that, please enjoy the final chapter!

“Ah, little blue bird.” Black Hat crouched over Zephyr’s vacant body, staring down at their face. “Brain dead, you say?” 

“Mm.” Flug waved the little device absentmindedly. “It, um… it’s as effective as a b-bullet to the brain, so to speak.” 

Making a noise of distaste, Black Hat straightened. “Then what good is it? We sell guns that can do what this little thing can, except it actually _kills them_. Besides the vindictive satisfaction of seeing your enemy grieve for a person whose heart is still beating-- which, while wonderfully cruel, I will admit-- it’s pointless, Flug.” 

Flug hummed, only partially paying attention. Then, realizing Black Hat was expecting an answer, he fumbled, scrambling to his feet. “Oh! Oh. W-well, um… sir…” 

* * *

_There was always a degree of bombastic theatrics when Black Hat entered the lab through the door. Slamming it open with impatience, or swinging it open with flourish, the man always managed to scare the bejesus out of Flug in the process._

_The chilling tone of his voice, while a far cry from the usual snarling exasperation, sent Flug's heart into a frenzy of panic. Annoyance, anger, those he knew how to deal with. The way Black Hat hissed, "Dr. Flug," as he entered the door this day felt more like icy talons ready to pierce his lungs rather than claws wanting to rend flesh. There was cold, calculated intent in those words; not roiling outrage._

_"S-- s, sir?" he finally managed to splutter, scrambling to his feet before even turning around._

_Black Hat seized his shoulder, spinning him and shoving him back until the edge of his work table dug into his back painfully. "My dear doctor," he said, words purred through clenched teeth, "You would not be moonlighting, by any chance, now would you?"_

_Flug stared, terrified and confused but trying not to let his guilt overwhelm him. After so many years of working for Black Hat, even when he hadn't done anything wrong, there was a sense of responsibility that came with the demon's accusations. You'd think the opposite would happen, that he'd get used to literally never being able to please the man, but you'd be wrong._

_"I-- sir? Of-- no, of course not! Why-- what would m-- make you think that?"_

_"A little white lie, Dr. Flug. Your little pen pal-- or should I say, **pet project** ," he snarled, lips drawing up to expose viridian fangs. The only thing that kept Flug from recoiling with a whimper was the sudden, dawning understanding of what Black Hat was talking about. The guilt vanished in an instant. _

_Seeming to notice, Black Hat paused, drawing back just enough to scrutinize Flug. It gave the doctor a moment to speak: "Oh, n-no sir, of course. I mean, of course not, I'm not m-moonlighting. I only work for the-- for you. I, um, I'm too fond of my neck to... consider taking any, uh, side jobs."_

_Pursing his lips, considering, Black Hat finally drew away, though he didn't release Flug's collar. "Then explain," he said, curt._

_"The-- my phone contact, r-right?" He wasn't surprised Black Hat was going through his stuff. Demencia's snooping had reminded him to be more careful with his glib nicknaming. Still, apparently changing “Stupid Hero” to “Pet Project” hadn’t made Black Hat much less angry._

_When Black Hat didn't reply, only arching a warning eyebrow, Flug hastened on, "I-it's a pet project, sir, for-- for the catalogue. They're, ah, well, they... they're kind of a..." Black Hat looked increasingly unimpressed, and Flug swallowed the lump in his throat. "A... a study in magic."_

_The frustration flew from Black Hat's expression, replaced with budding interest. "Oh?"_

_"Well, sir, as you know, th-there are people with some powers that, that come from a source o-other than yours." Black Hat's grip loosened and Flug felt the vice around his lungs lessen with it. "So I-I've been studying a subject that displays just such a, an example of those powers, so-- so that I might be able to, ah, to..."_

_"To imitate them," Black Hat concluded, clenching a fist. "Or nullify them. Yes! Brilliant, Dr. Flug, absolutely brilliant. Many a hero would be rendered powerless, helpless to the whims of villains if such a method were discovered." Clapping a hand on the doctor's arm and ignoring his squeak, the demon curled his lips. "You are far more devious than I have you credit for. Perhaps I should give you more allowance with your little pet projects."_

_Flug startled at the admission, and straightened hastily. "S-sir--"_

_"Bring me results, Flug," Black Hat interrupted, clearly not wanting the doctor to get too eager._

_With that he was gone, striding from the lab with purpose. There was a degree of whiplash to be expected when working with Black Hat; coming in like a hurricane, ready to flay Flug's skin from his bones, and leaving with the promise to give him more freedom in his personal agenda._

_Raising a hand to his head, Flug heaved a sigh._

* * *

“Hm.” Black Hat observed as Flug, hefting Zephyr’s body onto the examination table, wheezed under the weight of the ex-hero. “So you’re going to take little blue bird’s powers.”  
  
“Y-yes, sir,” Flug managed, bracing a hand to catch his breath.  
  
“But why not just shoot them with the magic-stealing gun?” It did seem convoluted. Flug didn’t want to tell the truth. He didn’t want to say that he was relieved when he found that the “magic-stealing gun,” as Black Hat put it, wouldn’t work on a self-aware target. So long as the powers were being used in some way, it seemed the device couldn’t locate the source and extract it. A corpse, however, lost its power altogether, and so the device would still be useless.  
  
But a brain dead subject was the perfect target.  
  
The explanation was interspersed with Flug’s fidgeting with the device itself, as well as parallels drawn between the Eldritch Absorption Prototype’s original drawbacks. Black Hat was familiar with them, making a face of disdain when he was forced to recall Flug’s blunder.  
  
“So,” Black Hat mused, “We sell them as a pair. Wipe the hero’s brain, then steal their powers.”  
  
“Correct. Sir.” Flug looked up from where he had finished calibrating the gun.  
  
“Let’s hope for your sake it works better than the last time,” Black Hat growled.  
  
Flug looked towards his boss, strangely impassive. It gave Black Hat pause, noticing the change in the doctor. There was something… missing. His fear. His-- attention.  
  
His mind was elsewhere, somehow distracted from even Black Hat’s threats. Focused on the success of his invention, more wholeheartedly than he had been in years.  
  
“It will,” Flug said, fixing his gaze on the hero’s body as he raised the gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mention it before, but you have Riplae to thank for Black Hat's little nickname for Zephyr.


	13. Epilogue 1

Work was going to be hell for the next few months. Black Hat Inc. had received more commissions for the dual guns than any other catalog item in the history of the company. Apparently, the thought of not only defeating your arch nemesis, but also stealing their powers to use for evil as the ultimate act of cruel irony, was too tantalizing for many villains to resist. Black Hat was elated. Flug was enjoying what little free time he had before they returned home from the convention and he was forced to start the one-man assembly line work.  
  
Fishing a box from his pocket, he was quick to light up a cigarette, shivering at the acidic burn as it poured down his throat. Holding it in until he felt sick, he finally coughed it out, drawing in the chill of the fresh air coming off of the water. He propped a chin on his hand, staring out across the lake as the wind whipped up the waves. It was a relief to get away from the oppressive air of the convention; too many questions, too many eyes, too many people.  
  
A cool drop splattered on his bare wrist and he glanced down. A trickle of rain began around him, barely enough to warrant attention let alone drive anyone indoors. The thunderheads rolling in promised for more to come. He didn’t want to go inside.  
  
Flug spent a long minute staring at the approaching storm, running his finger idly over the barrel of the device in his pocket. Then, tucking his cigarette between his lips, he withdrew the gun and appraised the sky blue colour swirling in its container. Dialing it up, he aimed the device toward the storm. Holding his bag, he pulled the trigger.  
  
A wind swept around him, whipping his jacket around his legs. The heavy black clouds rumbled overhead, rushing past with a brief but torrential downpour of water. Ducking his head under an arm, Flug waited it out, before peeking from beneath his arm. Looking up slowly, he found the sun beaming down at him, the storm making its way leisurely toward the other horizon.  
  
Waiting for another long moment, unmoving, Flug finally let himself sit, laying the gun across his lap as he reached shakily up for his cigarette. Realizing he’d dropped it, he lit up another, taking a shuddering draw and holding it until the burn was too much.  
  
He blew out a slow, unsteady stream of smoke. He wasn’t in the mood to blow rings.


	14. Epilogue 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we've come to the end. 
> 
> I never expected this to get as much of a following as it did?? Thank you to everyone who's stuck by this story to the end! It makes me absurdly happy that you all loved Zephyr so much, and felt so invested in where the narrative would go. I'm terribly grateful for all of the praise and encouragement. You've all been wonderful <3
> 
> I have a minor announcement at the end, so without further ado!

Demencia tore past Flug the moment the front door was unlocked, her cackling trailing her down the hall. “Demencia!” he shouted, going so far as to stomp his foot in frustration. “Calm down!” The trip to the convention had left her mostly cooped up in the hotel after the first day, when she’d caused a scientist’s experiment to implode out of existence with a few strategically-tweaked wires. It had certainly made Flug’s demonstration shine in comparison, but Black Hat had been less than pleased when the villainous community questioned his ability to keep her in check. The solution, of course, was to make a grand show of control, which included… literally leashing her in their suite.  
  
Plus, it was Demencia, so he shouldn’t have expected much better. Still…  
  
“Be careful!” he called after her, resigned to her excitement but hoping at least that she’d take the word of warning. Sighing, Flug hefted his satchel over his shoulder and headed toward his lab.  
  
“Good work this weekend, Dr. Flug,” Black Hat said as he passed by on his way to his office.  
  
Flug jumped, hand on the panel of his lab door. “Oh! Th-- thank you, sir.” Stealing a look out of his peripheral vision, Flug waited until Black Hat turned the corner, none the wiser to his inventor’s apprehension. Heaving a sigh, Flug pressed his palm to the panel. As soon as the door slid open, he heard a displeased huff at his feet. It reminded him distinctly of Black Hat’s noises of annoyance when Flug wasn’t working to his otherworldly standard.  
  
“Ohh, I know,” he murmured, crouching down and setting his bag on the ground. The fluffy black mass at his feet sat primly, sniffing as she directed a side-eyed glare toward him. “You’ve been all alone with that big nosey bear, haven’t you?” Wrapping his hands around her midsection, he stood, letting her balance gracefully against his chest. “Don’t worry, I don’t leave for work often. And whole weekends are maybe once every quarter, so you’ll barely notice.” Chatting idly as he carried her across the room, he set the cat on the table, running a hand over her head and down her back. She arched into it, visibly pleased in the way she slit her eyes and purred exactly once.  
  
“Are you hungry?” he asked, in the same moment that Demencia gasped in the doorway, “A cat!”  
  
Whipping around, Flug hissed at her to be quiet, rushing across the room and yanking his bag inside before closing the door. Demencia was already on the table next to the cat, cooing at her. Immediately the feline hissed, hackles rising and fur standing up along her spine.  
  
“Aww, it looks just like Black Hat,” Demencia laughed.  
  
“Likes you about as much, too,” Flug muttered wonderingly as he walked slowly over to the pair. Demencia was scooping the cat into her arms, holding her on her back like a baby while the cat in question squirmed and spat.  
  
“Don’t torment her, Demencia,” Flug said wearily.  
  
“It’s a girl?” Demencia gasped, rubbing her face against the cat’s. She got claw marks on her cheeks for the trouble. Demencia only laughed in delight. “Now I’m not the only one!”  
  
“You can’t tell Black Hat,” he said, tone firm. “... Not yet.”  
  
“Why not?” Demencia pouted, which only worsened when the cat finally wiggled free and darted to Flug’s other side.  
  
“Because…” It was a long story. Flug didn’t want to get into it. The memory was still raw. “... She doesn’t have a name yet.”  
  
“Well, that’s easy,” Demencia snorted. “Black Cat!”  
  
Flug stared at her. “... Black Cat.”  
  
“Yeah! ‘Cause she’s just like Black Hat!”  
  
It took him a long moment to respond. When he finally did, Flug wanted to burst out laughing. Instead, coughing into his fist, he cleared his throat, wiping a tear from beneath his bag. “I-- uh-- that’d… that’s…” Coughing again, he swallowed the giggle threatening to escape his throat. “... I’ll think about it.”  
  
“Who’s a condensed being of pure and almighty evil? Black Cat is.” Demencia was still cooing over the feline, even as she hissed and swiped.  
  
Black Cat. Flug shook his head. Even from day one, he’d thought she looked just like his boss. It was uncanny.  
  
“Where’d you get her?” Demencia asked. Innocently. Oblivious.  
  
The question made Flug’s heart stop. He didn’t move for a moment, breath held. He waited for it to pass.  
  
It did.  
  
Reaching slowly for the cat food tucked under his desk, he said, “She was… an orphan.”  
  
“Aww.” The question seemed sufficient for Demencia. “Does she have any toys?”  
  
“A few.” _From her old house,_ he almost said, then didn’t, clamming up. “Uh, over there,” he murmured, nodding toward the corner of the room. Demencia scampered toward them. “But she’s hungry now, so maybe later?”  
  
“Aww,” Demencia muttered once more, before brightening. “Alright! I’ll eat too. Bye, Black Cat!” She darted out the door.  
  
Sighing, Flug sat himself in his chair and scooped out half a cup of kibble for her. “Black Cat,” he murmured, watching her arch her back against his arm as she purred, settling daintily down to begin eating. Running a gentle hand over her thick, soft fur, Flug wondered if it was in bad taste.  
  
He wondered if he had the right to care anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //wink wonk//
> 
> Okay, so, announcement! I do have a sort of "deleted scene" for this fic, and a few side stories-- likely one-shots-- that I'd like to explore in this setting. I'll be creating a series, which you'll be able to subscribe to if you're interested in possibly learning more about Zephyr, or where Flug goes from here, or even side stories of what went down during this story. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading! <3


End file.
